There have been a few little snapshot moments recently that have made me remember the good life. Most of them have to do with kids, scarily enough. I've been working in the kids section of the bookstore recently and the demanding and snotty adults coming in make me want to do nasty things with blunt instruments, but usually the kids are a lot of fun. Even the very destructive little boys that remind you that the Calvin-types are only really cute when in a comic strip.
There is this brother sister pair that live in the house on the way to the pool and everyday that I head out to swim/tan/read/daydream they are outside playing. Two days after the Oilers lost, the littler boy came out of the yard singing Oh Canada at the top of his lungs, more patriotic than any pro anthem singer I've ever seen. He was just givin'er. I smiled at how he didn't care that they lost, he'd just learned a new song and he liked it. Then his slightly older sister came out in the outrageous princess outfit - a la Fancy Nancy - screaming that she was the perfect hockey player's girlfriend. I almost died laughing.
The first day I saw them, the little girl had run all the way to the corner and was teetering on the edge of the sidewalk and almost onto the road of a four-way stop. Her littler brother was screaming her name from the safety of the sidewalk near their house, about four houses away. He was calling for her to come back, but there she remained balancing on her toes, arms outstretched, wind in her hair, hangin' out on the edge.
I watched her, partly because I feared she would take the leap (they are tiny tots and I'm turning into an old, concerned fuddy-duddy), and partly because it reminded me that the edge is where one should be hanging out. Many don't want to be there, but she was loving it. It's become an uncomfortable place to be, but I used to thrive there, it used to be the only place I liked to call home. It left me wondering when this fun place suddenly became scary.
She never did step out onto the road, just balanced there laughing for ages. She knew she wasn't ready yet. But soon...
I'm off to the pool.
There is this brother sister pair that live in the house on the way to the pool and everyday that I head out to swim/tan/read/daydream they are outside playing. Two days after the Oilers lost, the littler boy came out of the yard singing Oh Canada at the top of his lungs, more patriotic than any pro anthem singer I've ever seen. He was just givin'er. I smiled at how he didn't care that they lost, he'd just learned a new song and he liked it. Then his slightly older sister came out in the outrageous princess outfit - a la Fancy Nancy - screaming that she was the perfect hockey player's girlfriend. I almost died laughing.
The first day I saw them, the little girl had run all the way to the corner and was teetering on the edge of the sidewalk and almost onto the road of a four-way stop. Her littler brother was screaming her name from the safety of the sidewalk near their house, about four houses away. He was calling for her to come back, but there she remained balancing on her toes, arms outstretched, wind in her hair, hangin' out on the edge.
I watched her, partly because I feared she would take the leap (they are tiny tots and I'm turning into an old, concerned fuddy-duddy), and partly because it reminded me that the edge is where one should be hanging out. Many don't want to be there, but she was loving it. It's become an uncomfortable place to be, but I used to thrive there, it used to be the only place I liked to call home. It left me wondering when this fun place suddenly became scary.
She never did step out onto the road, just balanced there laughing for ages. She knew she wasn't ready yet. But soon...
I'm off to the pool.
